On The Same Page
by sohhkb
Summary: My first attempt at smut. Very little plot.


Never in her life had Scarlett felt so bored! The dinner at Melanie and Ashley's that Scarlett had assumed only she and Rhett were attending had turned into a gathering of the Old Guard. Currently, Dr. Mead was busy entertaining the guests with stories from his early doctor days, and Scarlett could not stand to listen to the drone of the older man's voice. _How can everyone still be awake?_

Across from the long, narrow table sat Rhett. His long arms were folded over his chest as he leaned back against his chair. He appeared to be listening raptly; his head was turned towards the old doctor, and he gazed, unblinking.

She wanted to call his name softly, to get his attention. She couldn't possibly imagine that he actually was enjoying being here. She tried to clear her throat lightly, but her action only made him glance in her direction. He looked away before she could signal to him. Scarlett seethed silently. What could she do to get his attention?

Aha! She knew just what she could do to persuade him to leave the party!

Carefully she withdrew her foot from her slipper. The cold wood floor made Scarlett shiver involuntarily, but no one looked up. Stretching her leg as slowly as she could to not call attention to herself, her foot finally made contact with Rhett's leg. Up, up, up her foot trailed, until finally it reached her destination.

Rhett grunted loudly, leaning forwards. A few heads turned towards him, but he quickly recovered, knocking her foot away with his hand.

But Scarlett persisted.

Rhett shifted in his chair.

Scarlett stretched out her toes ever so slightly.

Rhett let out one loud escape of air.

Scarlett wriggled her toes emphatically.

This time Rhett erupted into a coughing fit so loud and obnoxious that the old doctor stopped mid-sentence and the entire dinner party stared, agape. Melly rose halfway out of her seat and made to move towards Rhett, concern written on her plain face.

"Is something wrong, Captain Butler?" Underneath the table, Scarlett wriggled her toes again.

"I'm- fine. I think?" He cast an exasperated glance at his wife, who sat innocently impish on the opposite side of the table. Two rows away, Ashley Wilkes frowned.

"Darling!" Scarlett feigned concern. "Perhaps you're feeling ill!" She traced a pattern with her big toe up and down his inner thigh and watched as a patch of red heat appeared around Rhett's collar. It was Ashley Wilkes' turn to cough. Rhett recovered enough to through a taunting grin down Ashley's way.

"It sounds as though Major Wilkes is coming down with the same illness- oof!" he cajoled, and then groaned, having earned a shove in a sensitive place from his cruel wife.

"Do you feel well enough to continue, Captain Butler?" inquired Melly, still half-standing.

"I think- not," amended Rhett, who was prepared to acquiesce when another caress from across the table changed his mind. "I do feel ill."

"Splendid! I mean- how unfortunate," offered Scarlett unconvincingly as she leapt from the table, stumbling a bit as she returned her slipper to its owner. "Well, Rhett, we'd better get you home and straight up to bed!" Ashley coughed again.

"Must be something in the air," muttered Ashley, averting his eyes from Rhett's gleeful stare.

"Are you ready to leave?" Scarlett demanded, hands on her hips, while her husband sat dumbly in his seat.

"Give me a moment," he advised her, holding up a finger to her protest and closing his eyes.

The entire dinner party stared while he collected himself, Ashley muttering "_Really!" _under his breath.

"Alright. I'm all set." He rose from his place at the table, approaching Melly while Scarlett all but tapped her foot impatiently. "Thank you, Mrs. Wilkes, for a lovely evening. I'd kiss your cheek, but, well, I wouldn't want you to catch anything from me."

"I understand, Captain Butler," said Melly kindly, patting him on the arm. "Thank you for coming. And thank you, Scarlett."

"Lovely party, Melly," offered Scarlett carelessly, gathering her skirts. "Well, goodnight." The Butlers disappeared out of the room and the members of the dinner party sat silently, wondering what just happened, until they heard a door faintly slam.

"As I was saying," continued Dr. Meade…

* * *

"Finally," huffed Scarlett as Rhett handed her into the carriage. "It took you long enough to leave!"

"I wasn't aware, my dear, that we had a special code that inspired me to become ill at a moments notice. But now that we're here-" He stretched luxuriously in the small cabin, invading her space as he did so.

"What?" she prompted when he didn't elaborate, pushing his large frame away from her own. "Now that we're here… _what_?"

"You've got to finish what you started, of course." He peeked at her through narrow eyes, grinning wolfishly. Scarlett gaped at him, hardly understanding what he meant and unsure that she wanted to.

"Finish what I've- oh!" Rhett laughed at her aghast expression.

'Well?" It was his turn to prompt her. "I'm waiting."

"Rhett!" she cried, "I will not do…_ that_ in a carriage!" She was not exactly sure what _that_ was but she knew that ladies did not act in lewd ways outside of their own dark bedrooms.

"And yet you were able to do so at a crowded dinner table," he teased her.

"That was different," she defended herself. "I was using you to get what I wanted!" At that statement Rhett laughed aloud.

"Let me explain it to you in a way you can comprehend, Mrs. Butler. Women are like fireplaces. You've got to carefully arrange the wood in order to create a large flame, and even then the flame can die down easily without a watchful eye. Men, on the other hand, are like forest fires. They crop up unexpectedly, and once started are impossible to stop. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"No."

"I should have known intricate analogies would confuse you. Never mind that. I'll just have to show you."

He took her small hand in his own large one, brought it briefly to his lips, and then set it down into the hard heat between his legs.

Scarlett gulped.

"This is what you do to me, Scarlett," he breathed into her hair, and the temperature in the carriage suddenly rose ten degrees. Scarlett felt the mild butterflies in her stomach spread quickly lower.

"Rhett." She had tried to sound stern and put off, but her voice came out hoarse and throaty instead. Her husband groaned and thrust a little more into her hand.

"Keep talking like that, my dear, and this will be one very short carriage ride." She shut her mouth, unsure of how to reply to that. Inside the cabin the only sounds were of deep breathing and the faint clip clop of the horses' hooves. The heat in Scarlett' stomach continued to grow, and she gave in to the heady sensation, feeling as though she was behaving so very wrong and so very, very right.

"What do you want me to do?" she finally asked him, kicking her slippers of and tucking her legs under her body on the cushioned bench seat. Rhett's clouded black eyes roamed over her frame, pausing at the scoop of her dress, and Scarlett squirmed with anticipation. Rhett clenched and unclenched his fists.

"Do exactly as I say." His order came out a whisper, and Scarlett nodded, enraptured by the heat in his eyes. She only hoped she looked as appealing to him as he did to her. Unsure, she bit her lips to bring more color to them and was rewarded with a quick hiss of approval from Rhett. She suddenly wished she'd worn her more low-cut gown to the party.

"On the floor," he ordered to her quietly. "Just as you're sitting now."

Obediently, albeit shakily, she obeyed and tucked her knees under her as she had been sitting on the bench.

"Touch me-" he swallowed loudly, "As you were touching me at the party. With your hands."

He sat back and watched her as she touched the bottom of his trousers, slowly bring up her arms as she had done earlier that night.

"Hurry," he encouraged, and she sped up until her hands felt the now familiar heat of his inner thighs. Softly she flitted her fingers over the straining bulge, abruptly aware that, while she'd fleetingly touched his member before, it had always been in the pitch black of the bedroom- not in a carriage with soft moonlight glowing into the windows.

She wanted to see it.

Rhett didn't stop her as her hands moved on her own accord to unbutton the fly of his pants.

"Is this alright?" she finally asked him when he hadn't responded to her daring move.

"Don't stop," he breathed, leaning down to assist her.

She couldn't help but stare. It was much larger than she had expected, and she told him so.

"Larger than your other husbands'?" he asked her, burying his fingers into her long hair.

"Mmhmm," she agreed as she moved her hands along the silky skin.

"And- larger, you think, than Ashley's?" Scarlett paused in her ministrations, having never once thought of Ashley's size. Vaguely, she wondered why it would matter to Rhett.

"Yes," she decided honestly, and acting out of impulse, leaned down to kiss the tip of his manhood. "Much larger."

Without warning he jerked her into his lap and planted a smoldering kiss against her lips. When he pulled away they were both panting for air. She could feel him pulsing near her still clothed core, and she whimpered in appreciation, rocking her hips a little to increase the friction.

"I want you _now_," he growled into her ear, and in one swift movement tugged her skirt up and pushed her drawers aside. Cool air rushed up between her legs and she inhaled sharply as Rhett's hand followed. She bucked when his hand found the spot that made her toes curl.

"Are you ready?" he asked her, and she barely had time to nod before he had poised himself at her entrance and thrust her hips down onto his. He kissed the tops of her breasts as they thrust together. Never before had Scarlett felt so uninhibited!

It was over far too quickly. Rhett growled his release, thrusting one final time that nearly lifted her off of his lap. He closed his eyes and his head rolled back to rest against the back of the cabin. They sat that way, each catching their breath for a moment until Scarlett let out a large sigh. Rhett laughed out loud.

"Are you disappointed, Mrs. Butler?" He pushed away the tendrils of her hair that were sticking to her forehead. Scarlett shook her head "no". She wasn't disappointed- far from it.

"I just wasn't ready for it to end," she admitted, feeling (now that it was over) like a loose woman. Rhett laughed again, lifting Scarlett gently off of his lap.

"Don't worry my dear. I'm far from finished with you." He buttoned up his pants and handed her the slippers she'd left on the floor. When he prepared to open the carriage door, Scarlett grabbed his arm.

"Rhett! We're home already?"

"Of course we are! It's only a five minute carriage ride from Melly's, darling!"

Scarlett felt panicked.

"You mean to tell me we've been parked outside of our home the entire time?"

"The entire time. You didn't realize?"

"No! Rhett, what about the servants?"

"Scarlett, they're not stupid."

"I'll not be able to face Mammy in the morning!" She clutched at Rhett's arm in worry.

"We'll fire them all, if it makes you feel any better," he teased, kissing her neck. "Let's go to bed." He tugged her bodily out of the carriage. "Scarlett, I'll throw you over my shoulder if I have to!"

"Fine," she agreed stubbornly. Rhett opened the front door for her and they were greeted by an eerie quiet. There were no servants in sight as they ascended the stairs.

"They all know!" insisted Scarlett, wringing her hands.

"Of course they do," guffawed Rhett. "And they're not the only ones." He tried and failed to hide his smug grin from his wife.

"What are you saying, Rhett Butler?"

"Nothing," he insisted, holding up his hands as if to say 'I'm innocent', "only that a certain Mr. Wilkes will most definitely have a difficult time getting to sleep tonight!"

"You're being silly, Rhett. No one had the faintest idea what was going on!"

"If you say so, my dear."

"Besides," insisted Scarlett stubbornly, "Gentlemen do not think of such things." _Ladies do not either,_ she reminded herself, flinching.

"Of course they do!" argued Rhett with gusto, ignoring the gentlemen barb. "Men are not the same as women in this respect, Scarlett. Trust me when I say: men think of these things- only on a larger scale and in much greater detail." They entered the bedroom together- the candles had already been lit and the bed was turned down. Rhett kicked off his shoes and began removing his suit.

"Scarlett," he continued, "what do you imagine a man is thinking about when he is flirting with you?"

"How lovely and sweet I am," she recited, tossing her earbobs onto the dresser, "how they'd like to be my beau."

"Wrong. They're thinking about what you look like underneath your shimmy. They're picturing you doing things much like what just transpired a mere ten minutes ago." He waggled his eyebrows at her. She scowled and turned away from him to remove the pins from her dilapidated hairdo.

"If it is true then you should murder any man who looks my way, Rhett."

"That's what's fun about it, Scarlett. Men thrive upon another man's jealousy. When you were married, I nearly killed damned Frank Kennedy with my bare hands because of all the things I imagined him doing to you." Scarlett grimaced, remembering with disgust the few times she'd allowed her old husband to touch her in that way.

"Now I can be that man who elicits jealousy, "continued Rhett, "by taking to bed whenever I please the most beautiful woman in Georgia!"

"Whenever you please?" she mocked. He approached her from behind, leaning over her seated form to spread kisses over her neck.

"Whenever I please," he affirmed.

Scarlett felt the familiar heat grow in her center as Rhett's kisses dipped lower. She turned slightly to allow him easier access and felt his light laughter against the swell of her breasts.

"Scarlett." His voice was wet and muffled against her skin. "What are you still doing fully clothed?"

_For once in our lives_ thought Scarlett as she turned to her husband and captured his lips with her own, _we are on the same page._


End file.
